Blue
by Megii of Mysteri OusStranger
Summary: Gaara's eyes widened and he stumbled back, triping and falling in the process. It couldn't be! He was dead! He killed him! Yashamaru... A scream ripped itself from his throat. Rated for angst.
1. Freedom

Blue

Summary:_It's been 9 years. 9 years, 12 weeks, and 4 days since the Kazekage kidnapped me and sent an imposter to kill Gaara. I wonder… what became of you, my nephew?_

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**Chapter 1**

It's been 9 years. 9 years, 12 weeks, and 4 days since my brother-in-law, the Kazekage, kidnapped me and sent an impersonator to kill my nephew, Gaara. 9 years, 12 weeks, and 4 days I've been living in the hole with no human contact. 9 years, 12 weeks, and 4 days I've been completely alone.

Where do I live, you ask? I'll tell you right now, Hell. And no, there's no fire. Wait, let me take that back, I live in a place worse than Hell, because I'm not dead. It's a prison cell. It's small, dark, and it stinks. There's no light unless someone comes in to feed me or wash out the cell. What can I say? It's not like they put a toilet in here.

There are so many things I can't remember. The color of the sky. The color of the sand. A sunset. The taste of fruit. I don't even remember what I look like.

The only things I really do know are the feeling of sand, seeing as I'm constantly sitting on it, and Gaara's eyes. Everything else is fuzzy.

I could never forget Gaara's eyes. So sad and lonely and lost, the color of sea-foam and ringed with black. I wonder what's become of my beloved nephew. Did the imposter succeed in killing him or did Gaara grow up? Maybe he's even the Kazekage now. Ha ha, funny. Right.

It's a wonder I haven't cracked yet. Or maybe I have and I just don't realize it yet. How would I be able to tell anyway? I can't see my hand in front of my face, much less if I'm crazy.

Kami, I've got to get out of here. I've got to escape. I've tried before, when they first shoved me in here, but I never succeeded. I want to see the sun and the stars again. I want to taste something other than water and stale bread. I want to remember what it's like to touch another person and to _see_ them!

I must escape…

Suddenly, the door to my cell opens, letting in light. I cry out and shield my eyes. Blind in the dark and blind in the light. Oh, what I would give to be able to see again!

A figure in the light kicks something into my cell. My weekly rations. The person doesn't say anything. They stopped trying to talk to me years ago. The light begins to get smaller as the door begins to close.

My eyes widen and I launch myself forward.

"No!" I cry in desperation, extending my arm and catching the door. My voice is weak and cracked from going so long without use.

"What the-?"

I scramble to my feet and leap through the doorway, running blindly down the hall. Everything's a blur of brown and yellow, but even though I can hardly see, it's the most beautiful thing I've even seen. Color! I'm free!

Then, suddenly, I'm on the ground again, my mouth full of sand and a heavy weight on my back. I groan, sensing that several fragile ribs may have broken. When did my body become so delicate?

My body begins moving backwards against my will. Something is wrapped around my ankle, dragging me. A hand? Fear blooms in my chest and I claw desperately at the sandy floor.

I cry out, my voice rough. "No! No, don't put me back in the dark! I don't want to! I don't want to! I want to see the sky again! I want to see what color the sky is! I want to see the sun! I want to see the stars! Oh, please, no! Please! Don't put me back in the-!"

A fist collides with my head, a sensation I vaguely remember. Pain. So this is pain… My eyelids flutter shut and the blurred colors around me melt into darkness.

* * *

The young, fifteen year-old Kazekage strode down the halls purposefully. Normally, Sabaku no Gaara wouldn't be anywhere near the village prison, but the spy they recently caught had been a sort of special case that required his direct interference.

Now, with the interrogation done, he should have been leaving, but a cry from what should have been an empty section of prison caught his attention.

He heard a crash as someone was tackled, soon followed by a cry.

"No! No, don't put me back in the dark! I don't want to! I don't want to! I want to see the sky again! I want to see what color the sky is! I want to see the sun! I want to see the stars! Oh, please, no! Please! Don't put me back in the-!"

Gaara frowned and picked up his stride. A sixth sense prodded at the back of his mind. Something was… wrong here.

He turned the corner just in time to see one of the prison guards shove something through a doorway and closed the door with a look of disgust on his face.

"What's going on here?"

The man whirled around. Upon sight of the young man, he began sweating bullets. "K-Kazekage-s-sama! W-what are you d-doing over h-here?"

"I should be asking you the same question." Gaara deadpanned. "There should not be any prisoners on this side of the building." The man's nervous actions were only making him more suspicious.

The man's eyes darted around. "Ah! Yes! Well… I'm just, ah… p-putting away extra i-items! Yes! Storing them, s-since, you know, there's no one on this side of the prison! Nope! No one at all!"

Gaara raised a brow. The man was a terrible liar. His eyes fell upon the claw marks in the sand and the spilled tin cup by the door. Water soaked into the sandy floor.

"Open the door."

The man started. "W-what?"

"I said open it."

He spluttered. "B-bu-but sir! You r-really have no reason t-t-t…"

"Now." The sand reared up, more than prepared to strike.

"Y-y-y-yes, s-s-sir! P-p-p-lease d-don't k-kill m-m-me!" he wailed, fumbling with the keys. For a moment, Gaara wondered if the man was going to soil himself. "I-I-I r-really don't k-k-know anything ab-b-bout this m-man. I-it's the c-c-council's o-orders. H-he's b-b-b-been here f-for years-s."

He opened the door with violently shaking hands and stepped aside. Gaara moved to go into the cell, but recoiled. His face turned to a frown.

_It stinks. And this man is still alive? It smells worse than a corpse in here…_ He stepped back. "You go in and get him." He said.

The man looked aghast. "W-what?"

"Go in and get him." The redhead repeated, punctuating each syllable threateningly. Something was definitely not right with this situation. Why would there be a prisoner in this section of the building that he knew nothing about. Was the council hiding something?

The man nodded in terror and went into the cell, quickly coming out with an unconscious man in his arms.

The man was blonde and filthy. He smelled of decay and his body was beyond starved. His tattered, dirty clothing, if it could be called that, hung loosely upon his skeletal frame, his high cheekbones seeming almost hollow. If it weren't for the fact that his chest moved up and down with every breath, Gaara would have thought the man long dead.

The prison guard set the half-dead man on the ground, backing away quickly and wiping his hands on his clothing as if to be rid of some disease. The blonde man's head lolled limply toward the redheaded Kazekage, exposing his face.

Gaara's eyes widened to extremes. He gasped and backed away quickly, tripping and falling over in the process. No, ni, it couldn't be! He was dead! He was dead! That face… it was… it was…

"Yashamaru…"

He screamed.

**End Chapter 1**


	2. The Reason

**Chapter 2 **

"Somebody tell me what the fuck is going on!" Gaara yelled, his fist punching a hole in the thick, mahogany table. The council members were stiff in their seats.

Temari moved towards her youngest brother. "Gaara, I…"

"Shut up!" he snarled, causing her to recoil in shock and fear. He turned back to the council, his eyes flashing with fury. "Now, somebody tell me why my _dead uncle_ is currently in the hospital _alive_, before I crush you all to the ninth level of Hell!"

One of the council members fainted. Another whimpered pitifully as his clothing got wet in a certain area.

"G-Gaara-sama, we…." He froze as the former Jinchuuriki's icy gaze fell upon him. He trembled under those black-ringed eyes and swallowed. "I-i-it was y-your f-f-father! He-he… oh, kami… he… he… he… he…" The man stuttered helplessly, unable to form words.

Gaara growled, his sand slowly crawling over the man. "I'm waiting, you worthless pile of flesh!"

The man trembled, his voice several octaves higher. "He… he… he… he… he… he… he…"

You are useless!" Gaara shouted, his hand clenching.

"Gaara-sama!" Baki cried, standing up. Gaara's head whipped over to his former sensei, his hand in mid-crushing poise. The sand-covered council member let out a choked sob. "Please, calm down!"

"Calm down? You want me to _calm down_? HELL, NO I WON'T FUCKING CALM DOWN! Yashamaru is fucking _alive_! How the hell did that happen? I was there when he died! I killed him myself! His fucking body blew up into teeny tiny little bits! Now, somebody suck it up and tell me what is going on here or I'll crush you one by one until I get my _fucking_ answers!"

"Gaara!"

"What?" the redhead snapped, turning to face his brother.

"You've got to tone it down! You…"

"Don't tell me what to do, you filthy…!"

Kankuro grabbed his younger sibling by the front of his robe roughly. "Damn it, Gaara! Cut it out! You can't expect to get answers out of people like this! Look! You've already gotten three people to pass out and I'm pretty sure that one has pissed his pants!"

Said man blushed furiously.

Gaara's jade eyes grazed over the many frightened faces. He sighed loudly and knocked Kankuro's hand away, placing a palm on his forehead as he breathed deeply, straining himself to calm down. He ran a hand over his face and leaned against the wall briefly. Finally, he sat down somewhat calmly at the table, hi hands running his face repeatedly.

A menacing air still clung to him, however. He knitted his fingers together and looked around at the remaining conscious members of his council.

"Somebody tell me what's going on, _now_."

**End Chapter 2**


	3. Blue

**Chapter 3**

I can't name what it was I first felt when I awoke. It was strange and foreign… yet somehow familiar. All I knew was that I was no longer in my prison cell. Kami, I hoped I wasn't somewhere worse. They weren't planning on killing me, were the? No, I still had to see what color the sky was…

I forced my heavy eyelids to open, but recoiled painfully at the light. Okay, light. That should be good, right? Maybe bad. Still can't see… shit. I groaned at the light forcing its way through my eyelids and yanked the blankets over my head.

Blankets!

I sat up abruptly but winced drastically at the pain the movement caused. Yep, some of my ribs were definitely broken. I winked carefully, slowly allowing my eyes to adjust to the colors I'd been neglected for so long. Tears welled in my eyes.

Colors. I could see. There wasn't any darkness anywhere. Everything may have been blindingly white and blurred, but it was something other than the infinite darkness of my hell.

I sniffed loudly and gripped the soft sheets in my hands. I was free. I was free. My eyesight wasn't anything near what it should have been, I could tell. Everything took on vague shapes, I wasn't able to see anything too detailed, but I couldn't remember ever having felt so happy.

I was free.

Free.

FREE!

"Oh, Yashamaru-san! You've woken up so soon!" I heard a strange voice say.

Yashamaru? Was that my name? Oh, it had been so long… how had I forgotten my name? Vaguely, I recalled the tone of voice to be female. A… Nurse, maybe?

I turned toward the owner of the sound and squinted. The person was an array of white shapes with several sandy colored areas. Skin? Yes, skin was that color, I remember now. Then there was that other, dark brown color. Ah, her hair, it must have been her hair. It was long.

"Can…" My tongue stumbled upon itself, having long forgotten how to move. My voice cracked with lack of use. "Can… you come c-closer? I… I can't s-see you ver-ry well-ell."

The woman came forward and knelt by my bed. I could vaguely see some of the finer shapes in her face. Her nose was sort of triangular and the eyes were round.

"How are you feeling, Yashamaru-san?" She asked kindly. I felt tears sting my eyes again and I gripped the ever-soft sheets. The nurse was stunned. "Huh? Are you alright?"

"I-it's not dar-rk anymore. I… I'm f-f-free… I…"

The next thing I knew, I was being pulled into a soft embrace. I cried into the woman's warm shoulder softly. She rubbed my thin spine gently, holding me like a fragile piece of glass.

"It's alright. It's okay. Shh, there, there. Hush. Hush. It's alright."

How long she held me, I don't really know. I forgot how to tell time some while ago, never having a clock or light to give me any idea what time it was, save for when I went to sleep and when I awoke.

When my shudders subsided I lifted my head, remembering something I'd been longing to see more than anything else for almost a decade.

"I… I wan-nt to see th-the sky-y."

I felt the woman's warmth pull away from me and I could vaguely see her head nod. It took me a moment to recognize the meaning of the movement. Delicately, she helped me out of bed and over to the window of the room. I forced the window open, barely having the strength to do so, and stuck my head out.

The wind hit my face, almost like a slap, despite how softly it was moving. It caressed my sunken cheekbones and tousled my hair. Golden sand was everywhere, all over my vision, but I wasn't interested in that.

I tilted my face up.

Tears filled my eyes and I collapsed, sobbing, my face buried in my arms. I could sense the nurse's surprise and concern.

"It's blue!" I cried, tears streaming. "It's blue!"

"What?" The nurse asked, confused.

"The sky! It's blue! Beautiful, wonderful blue! I remember! Blue!" my shoulders shook with sobs. "Blue…"

The sky was blue.

**End Chapter 3**


	4. Sake

**Chapter 4**

Gaara had never been one to partake in the "wonders" of sake. Mostly because he never had a taste for it, the hot, scorching feeling of the liquid running down his throat wasn't exactly something he liked and after seeing some of the stupid things people tended to do after getting "wasted" only kept at him at a further distance from the distasteful drink.

Until now, anyway.

"Gaara, I really think you should put the bottle down now. I don't think you want to end up like Tsu-!"

The redhead threw the bottle at his older brother, who dodged and allowed the glass to shatter against the wall.

"Shut up." He fluffed his fingers through his hair and dropped his head on the desk with a groan.

It was all a lie. It had all be a _fucking **lie.**_ Yashamaru had never betrayed him. It had been an imposter. His father locked Yashamaru up and sent an imposter hoping to break him. Did the scar on his forehead and any sort of meaning anymore? This was one huge disaster… Karma must have really hated him.

He pulled out a fourth bottle of the clear, alcoholic liquid. He uncorked it roughly, only for his arm to be held down by his brother's hand.

"That's underage drinking, you know."

He shrugged the puppet-user off. "I don't care. I'm the _fucking_ Kazekage, I'll do whatever the fuck I want." He hissed, swinging the bottle up to his lips and taking a particularly deep swallow.

Kankuro frowned in disapproval before swiping the object out of Gaara's hands. He dangled it in front of him. "This isn't going to solve anything, little bro."

"Give me the damn thing back." Gaara demanded.

The puppet-user pulled the bottle out of his reach. "No. Snap out of it. Drowning your problems in sake isn't going to do anything but give you one hell of a hangover in the morning." He sighed, running a hand over his painted face. "Look, Gaara, I know what you're thinking about this whole deal. Yashamaru…" He ignored Gaara's flinch. "None of us were expecting anything like this to happen. I understand perfectly how you feel about him being…"

"Don't you dare." Gaara growled in a rare display of emotion. "You have no idea what it's like for me. _You_ didn't sit there and watch him die right in front of you. _You_ didn't lash out and attempt to kill him. _You_ weren't forced to sit there and listen as he told you that you were nothing more than a monster. _You_ didn't…"

"It wasn't really him, though, Gaara! We…"

_"It was to me, Kankuro!"_ He shouted, standing up. "It was real to me! This damned scar shows how real it was. If it weren't for that night I never would have cracked as a kid!"

He whisked the bottle out of Kankuro's grip and smashed it into the wall. He gripped his head and flopped back down into the chair. He buried his face in his hands.

"Get out of here. I need some time to myself." He said quietly.

Kankuro opened his mouth and closed it again, thinking it better not to say anything. He simply nodded and walked out of the room, clicking the door shut behind him.

**End Chapter 4**


	5. Fear

**Chapter 5**

I stared out the window, my violet eyes fixed upon the wondrous, blurry, blue sky.

Violet eyes. The nurse said I had violet eyes. Now I remember what color my eyes are. It's wonderful.

I'll admit, I'm afraid to go back to sleep. Sleep means darkness. I don't want to be in the dark anymore, it reminds me of my prison cell. And I'm even more afraid that if I go to sleep, I'll wake up back in the cell and realize this has been all some dream.

I look down at my hands. Though they are blurred to me, I can still see that they are not the proper shape. My fingers… I squeeze my eyes shut. I remember. All too well. There of my fingers are missing. I… ate them. I don't remember when, it was sometime early on and I was starving. There was… nothing else to eat.

I look away from them, lest I break into tears again.

I glance over at the brown blob of a door. I can hear voices on the other side.

"Yes. He's very fragile, physically and mentally, so be gentle around him. He seems to have difficulty seeing, likely from lack of nutrition, and he stumbles around somewhat when he speaks. On some more vital notes, he's suffered from severe malnutrition and he's missing several fingers to which he's admitted to… um, eating, in order to survive. We're not completely sure how extensively damaged his mentality may be, but don't be surprised if he can't recognize you right away."

"I… I see."

"Yes, well… come on in."

The door slides open and the nurse comes in with two other people. "Yashamaru-san, you have visitors!" She says, feigning cheerfulness.

I squint at the newcomers, trying unsuccessfully to make sense out of the blurs. They seem nervous.

"Can you see them all right?" The nurse asks.

I look down, bowing my head. "N-no…"

I feel terrible. Someone comes to see me and I can't even tell who they are. I wipe the back of my hand across my moistening eyes.

"Yashamaru?"

I look up into the faces of my visitors in surprise. They are kneeling by my bedside.

"Can you see us better now?"

"A… a little." I glance back and forth between the two, but it's the purple markings that manage to catch my attention. I reach out to touch the markings, the person stiffening at my touch. I frown lightly. Could it be?

"K-Kankuro?" I look over at the other person, tears welling. "Temari?" My voice squeaks.

Even though their faces are blurry, I can see their smiles. "Hey there, Yashamaru." Temari says softly.

I fling my arms around them as the tears come back full force, shocking them. "Y-you're so b-big n-now!" I cry, my head between their shoulders.

Both of them seem uneasy at the contact, but Temari rubs my back comfortingly. "I-it's okay, Yashamaru, don't cry."

"You don-n't know how h-hap-py I am t-to s-s-see you! I… it…"

"Oh, Yashamaru…" Temari somehow pulls me away from Kankuro and hugs me tightly. I bury my face into her shoulder, my mangled hands clutching her clothing.

"I m-missed you…"

My niece shushes me gently.

"I-it's been so l-long since s-someb-body touched m-me." I lift my head up and glance around the room for the person I most wish to see. I reluctantly pull myself out of Temari's embrace. "W-where's Gaar-ra?" I ask, dreading the answer. Please don't be dead; please don't be dead…

My niece and nephew glance at one another. "He's… kind of upset about this whole thing, Yashamaru. Seeing you alive is… hard for him since he believed he killed you all those years ago. I'm sure he'll come around eventually, he just needs some time." Kankuro explained.

I couldn't help but sigh in relief, one more tear escaping. "I… I was af-fraid that he was… that the impost-ster…"

Temari reaches out and hugs me again in understanding. Though I'm not sure if she really understands. All these years… they thought I hated Gaara. It must have been strange for them to realize I didn't.

"H-how is he?" I ask. I wanted to know; needed to know.

My niece and nephew hesitate in responding. "He's… okay. He's the Kazekage now."

Ironic.

"It's kind of amazing. Only a few years ago, he hated everyone and everything, and he killed mercilessly, but now he has compassion, it's… nice."

I… I should have expected something like that after… my heart tightens. I'm sorry I wasn't there to protect you, Gaara…

"Oh, and, well… he doesn't have Shukaku anymore."

Total and utter shock.

My eyes widen and I stare at the two, speechless. My mouth twitches as I try to form words, but to no avail. No sound comes out. There are so many questions I want to ask though! Why can't I bring myself to speak?

Kankuro seems to sense what it is I want and explains. "He was kidnapped by a terrorist organization called Akatsuki only a few months ago. No one knows what their goals are, but it involves all nine Bijuu. They succeeded in extracting Shukaku and killed Gaara in the process. After seeing how upset Gaara's friends were, Chiyo-baa-sama preformed a jutsu that brought him back to life, sacrificing her own life.

My heart soared at my older nephew's words. "He has f-friends now?"

They nod. Tears begin filling my eyes. I hastily try to wipe them away. "That's w-wonderful! I'm so g-glad for h-him" I break down into tears again. I can feel Temari and Kankuro's unease, but I can't stop. My frail shoulders shake with sobs as warm tears drip down my pale cheeks.

Temari wraps her arms around me once again and I readily fall into her embrace, sobbing. She nervously runs her fingers through my hair, trying to calm me. My face is pressed into her shoulder, hands clinging to her clothing weakly.

"He hates me, d-doesn't he?" I choke out.

"What?"

"Gaara! He hates me, doesn't he? He must! After all that… and I… he grew up without me… I should have fought back harder…"

"Yashamaru! Yashamaru, calm down! You're not making any sense! Yashamaru!"

The nurse moves to pull us apart. "Okay, Temari-sama, Kankuro-sama, I think it would be best if you left for the day. Yashamaru-san needs his rest and…"

"No, please!" I exclaim, my voice eerily quiet. "Don't leave me alone again. I can't stand being alone!" I hold onto Temari almost desperately.

"Now, now, Yashamaru-san, it's okay." The nurse says soothingly. "Myself and the other nurses will be here whenever you need _anything_. But for now I think it would be best if you lied down and got some sleep." A loud clicking sound comes from the direction of the window and I spin around in alarm to see the nurse closing the blinds. My eyes widen.

There is an audible click as the nurse extends her arm and the lights go out, leaving the room engulfed in darkness.

There is a tense silence before a terrified scream rips itself from my throat.

**End Chapter 5**


	6. No!

**Chapter 6**

Gaara and Baki looked up as the two elder Sand Siblings entered the family mansion, closing the door behind them with a click. Both had a subdued air about them.

"How did it go?" Baki asked hesitantly.

Temari's face became unreadable and she waved her arms in front of her before burying her face in her hands and hurrying away. The three males watched after her, the slamming of a door signifying her official retreat into her room.

Kankuro pinched the bridge of his nose. "I need a drink." He muttered, walking past the other two and into the kitchen.

He shuffled through the cupboards for several moments before remembering that he had thrown out all the sake because of Gaara. He groaned and rubbed his hands over his face, settling for a glass of water instead. Walking back into the living room, he flopped down in one of the chairs in front of his brother and ex-sensei, taking a long drink of the clear liquid. The other two watched him silently, expecting.

Finally, the puppet-user spoke. "He's afraid of the dark."

"What?" Baki asked, caught off guard.

"Yashamaru. He's afraid of the dark. Terrified of it. An emotional wreck, half blind, he's missing several fingers…"

"Torture?"

Kankuro looked up at his former sensei, face tinted green. "Starvation." He corrected.

A grimace covered Baki's face and Gaara's eyes widened before looking away.

The sand jounin turned his gaze over to his younger brother. "He asked about you." Gaara made no response save for the tensing of his shoulders. "He was concerned for you. It was all he wanted to talk about. He misses you, Gaara, badly."

"…"

"I think it would be good for you both if…"

"No."

"But…"

"No."

"You didn't even let me finish!" Kankuro exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air.

"You didn't need to." Gaara deadpanned. He stood and walked away.

Kankuro groaned again and finished the water. Baki watched after Gaara for a moment before pulling a bottle out of his councilman robes.

"Need a drink?"

"Oh, thank Kami-sama!"

**End Chapter 6**


	7. Perception

**Chapter 7**

I cling to the covers tightly, staring up blankly at the white ceiling, lights glaring into my eyes. I'm shaking terribly, the memory of that horrible darkness still haunting me despite the drugs that have been injected into my arm to calm me down.

I think I scared the shit out of the nurse and my niece and nephew. The doctors haven't turned the lights back off since the episode and Temari and Kankuro haven't come back to see me yet. I haven't slept since I first awoke, either. If I remember right, Gaara was an insomniac because of the Shukaku, and I think I might be becoming one as well. I wonder if he still is insomniac now that Shukaku is gone, or does he sleep?

The doctors gave me medicine to make me fall asleep once, but I woke up in such hysterics that they haven't given me any more. I think they're hoping I'll just ride it out and get over my fear. I don't think that's going to happen. They haven't lived through the hell I have.

I pull the impossibly soft blankets closer to my body and squeeze my eyes shut, red filling my vision. I miss Temari and Kankuro. I hate this lonely, empty, fearful feeling. The nurse, whose name is Asimo, is always around if I ever need her, but it's not the same as someone coming to see you when they're genuinely concerned. If and when I do get better and leave this place of sterile whiteness, I'll be just another name on her long list of patients. She's just doing her job; her comforting embraces and words are empty.

I shift, rolling over to look at the window. Its blinds are always left up at my request. After the episode I had, I don't think they would have refused. I stare out that window a lot. I'm usually either watching the sky or looking for a spot of red hair. Looking for Gaara.

My youngest nephew still hasn't come to see me. It makes me want to cry, but I've cried so much over the past few days I'm not sure if I could. Hell, I cried when the nurse brought me a cup of apple juice. I think apple juice is the best thing I've ever tasted.

Temari and Kankuro must have not been kidding when they said Gaara was taking me hard. I know he's avoiding me. I can't even imagine how he must feel, thinking I betrayed him all those years ago only for it to turn out one big lie. I tell myself that he's just caught up in his duties as Kazekage (a fact I'm still stunned about), but I know I', just lying to myself. Just making up excuses to numb the pain that comes from the fact that he still hasn't come to see me or even sent so much as a note.

Several teardrops fall onto my pillow.

For a split moment, darkness engulfs my vision, my body automatically trying to fall asleep. My eyes burst open and I shoot up in bed, breathing heavily and wincing at the pain that comes from the movement. The grip of sheer terror nulls down slightly and I relax back onto the bed, my breath coming in small, shaky gasps. The machine measuring my heart rate calms down.

Asimo pokes her head in. "Are you okay, Yashamaru-san?"

Standard question. She's certainly not surprised by my outbursts by now. It's happened so much in the past few days that she sometimes doesn't even bother checking in on me. I know she's somewhat worried that I refuse to sleep, but the concern is strictly doctor to patient. Nothing more.

I don't answer, instead burying my face further into the blanket. Again, she's used to this, and she slides the door shut without another word. Sighing, I turn back to the ceiling, opening my eyes. When did I close them?

The lights glaring into my irises help keep me awake. They're little, blurry, yellowish rectangles glaring against the stark white of the ceiling and walls and sheets and… just about everything else in the room. What isn't white in this room besides me? I'm not sure, actually.

I think most people would probably be bored sitting here with nothing but white and doing absolutely nothing. Most people would probably ant a book to read or something. Not me. I'm fine as far as entertainment goes. It's much better than that dark hole I used to be caged in and I highly doubt I'd be able to read anyway. I'm content to just lie here. Maybe Gaara will finally come see me today? I can only hope…

**End Chapter 7**


	8. Temari the Storyteller

**Chapter **

I hold the mirror tightly in my hands, my knuckles white and palms red with the fierceness of my grip. It is the first time I've seen my face in over nine years. Albeit, I can't see my features very well, though my eyesight has gotten better since I was first brought in.

My eyes are little splotches of purple paint, dulled and grayed by years of confinement. My hair looks frizzy around the edges and reaches past my shoulders, recently cut. It's maybe several shades lighter in color than the sand that somehow manages to find its way into the corners of the room, despite the nurses' and janitors' efforts to keep it out. My skin is a very soft peach color, very pale. The thick blue veins are very noticeable, even to my eyes.

I've been filling out rather nicely this past week, getting to eat everyday. I can't handle more than a meal a day, but an IV in my arm makes up for the nutrients I miss out on by not eating the other meals. My cheekbones aren't quite as sunken as they once were and Asimo says my ribs are healing well too.

The missing fingers continue to haunt me. It's strange to look at them. When I ate them from my hands, I couldn't see them all those years due to the dark. Now, seeing them, especially compared to other people's whole hands… it's strange.

I look far too small for someone my age, like a starved child. Apparently I'm supposed to be somewhere in my early forties. Forty-thee, forty-five, somewhere around there; I'm actually not too concerned about my age. Time lost its meaning to me a long time ago.

Asimo says I weigh seventy something pounds now, a big improvement, but she also says I have a long way to go before I make it to an honestly healthy weight. Once again, I'm not really concerned with such things.

My hands shaking a little, I set the mirror down on the table by the bed. Pulling my legs up, I set my chin on my knees. I reach out toward my feet and pick up the little blue tile. It was a gift from Asimo, a simple little thing; the same kind of tile once could find on kitchen floors. It's a deep blue color, darker than the sky; she called it "ocean blue." She said I could look at it to give me comfort at night, when the sky was black, since I loved the color blue so much.

I'm starting to get the feeling that her hugs and kind words aren't so empty anymore.

"Yashamaru-kun!"

I look up, squeezing the tile, as Asimo slides the door. She seems unusually bubbly today.

"You have a visitor!"

Oh, that's why. I smile back softly, brightening instantly. The nurse steps aside, allowing someone in black with yellow hair to walk in. Though the person is just as blurry as anything in the room, I recognize the person.

"Temari! You came back!" I say, beaming up at her.

Her expression pains briefly before she leans down, embracing me. "Of course I did, Yashamaru. How are you feeling?"

I bury my nose into the crook of her neck. "I'm good. A lot better than before."

She pulls away, leaving me to pout somewhat. "Good. You look better too. _Much_ better. You're not stuttering anymore either. Oh, I brought you something. I thought you might get bored just sitting here all day with nothing to do." She pulls something out of the red sash around her waist and hands it to me.

It's a book.

Faintly, I recognize a drawing of a green vine on the cover and some gold lettering that makes up the title. I press my thin lips together. The letters are large enough to me to see without too much strain, but with a bit of dread, I realize I can't recognize the letters. I've forgotten how to read.

"Yashamaru?" Temari rests her hand on my shoulder, making me jump slightly. She pulls away quickly at my reaction.

I wipe my moistening eyes. "Oh, I-I'm sorry, Temari. But… but I can't… I don't remember… I'm sure it's a very good book, but I…"

Realization dawns on her and she embraces me, murmuring softly while I apologize over and over again, saltine tears falling. It takes several minutes for me to gather my composure to a reasonable degree, and even then I keep apologizing.

My niece puts a finger to my lips, halting my ramblings. "It's okay, Yashamaru, really how about I read it for you?"

There's no denying that I'm surprised. "Really? No, Temari, it's not necessary. You don't have to…"

"I want to." She says gently, taking the book from my lap and sitting down in the worn gray chair by the bed. I wrap my arms around my legs patiently. "This is one of my favorite stories," my niece explains, "I chose it because it sort of fits the situation you're dealing with right now. Kind of. It's called 'The Last Leaf.'"

I nod and she begins.

"In a little district west of Washington Square the streets have run crazy and broken themselves into small strips called 'places.' These 'places' make strange angles and curves. One Street crosses itself a time or two. An artist once discovered a valuable possibility in this street. Suppose a collector with a bill for paints, paper and canvas should, in traversing this route, suddenly meet himself coming back, without a cent having been paid on account!

"So, to quaint old Greenwich Village the art people soon came prowling, hunting for north windows and eighteenth-century gables and Dutch attics and low rents. Then they imported some pewter mugs and a chafing dish or two from Sixth Avenue, and became a 'colony.'

"At the top of a squatty, three-story brick Sue and Johnsy had their studio. 'Johnsy' was familiar for Joanna. One was from Maine, the other from California. They had met at the table d'hôte of an Eighth Street "Delmonico's," and found their tastes in art, chicory salad and bishop sleeves so congenial that the joint studio resulted.

"That was in May. In November a cold, unseen stranger, whom the doctors called Pneumonia, stalked about the colony, touching one here and there with his icy fingers. Over on the east side this ravager strode boldly, smiting his victims by scores, but his feet trod slowly through the maze of the narrow and moss-grown 'places.'

"Mr. Pneumonia was not what you would call a chivalric old gentleman. A mite of a little woman with blood thinned by California zephyrs was hardly fair game for the red-fisted, short-breathed old duffer. But Johnsy he smote; and she lay, scarcely moving, on her painted iron bedstead, looking through the small Dutch windowpanes at the blank side of the next brick house.

"One morning the busy doctor invited Sue into the hallway with a shaggy, gray eyebrow.

"'She has one chance in - let us say, ten,' he said, as he shook down the mercury in his clinical thermometer. ' And that chance is for her to want to live. This way people have of lining-u on the side of the undertaker makes the entire pharmacopoeia look silly. Your little lady has made up her mind that she's not going to get well. Has she anything on her mind?'

"'She - she wanted to paint the Bay of Naples some day.' said Sue.

"'Paint? - bosh! Has she anything on her mind worth thinking twice - a man for instance?'

"'A man?' said Sue, with a jew's-harp twang in her voice. 'Is a man worth - but, no, doctor; there is nothing of the kind.'

"'Well, it is the weakness, then,' said the doctor. 'I will do all that science, so far as it may filter through my efforts, can accomplish. But whenever my patient begins to count the carriages in her funeral procession I subtract 50 per cent from the curative power of medicines. If you will get her to ask one question about the new winter styles in cloak sleeves I will promise you a one-in-five chance for her, instead of one in ten.'

"After the doctor had…"

"Temari-sama?" Asimo interrupts, opening the door with a sheepish look. I fought the urge to scowl at the woman. "I'm so sorry, Temari-sama, but Kazekage-sama wants to see you immediately."

Temari sighs, closing the book softly. She reaches out, hesitantly clasping my mangled hand in her whole one. "Gomen, Yashamaru, I guess I have to go."

I nod and embrace her. "You'll come back?

She seems somewhat sad and guilty for a moment. "Of course. Tomorrow. I'll come by during my break, all right?

"Arigato." I whisper. She pulls away and walks out of the room, leaving the book on the table.

I lie down once she disappears, pulling the pillow in front of me and squeezing it to my chest. I open my palm and gaze at the little blue tile in my hand.

I smile.

**End Chapter 8**

_"The Last Leaf" is by O. Henry._


	9. Gaara's Tears

**Chapter 9**

"You can't keep avoiding him like this, Gaara!"

"Leave me alone!"

Temari fumed at her youngest sibling. She was currently questioning the village's decision to make him Kazekage at such a young age. He was far too stubborn and cocky.

"He wants to see you! He _needs_ to see you! He's _dying_, Gaara! The medics can only do so much!" Her voice darkened. "And you're just going to sulk behind that desk and do nothing about it. You're not even going to go see him or send him a note to let him know that you're okay or _anything_! You're not even going to look for other, more skilled medics or ask people for help. You're just going to sit there and let him die like some kind of…!"

"_Shut up_!" The redhead exclaimed, spinning around to turn away from his sister.

"No! I'm sick of you and your foul attitude! You seriously need to pull your act together and deal with this! Did you know he's forgotten how to read? That he can hardly see and probably never see clearly again? Did you know he weighs as much as a ten year-old? Did you know he actually cried when he saw the sky? Did you know he's too afraid to go to sleep and has become insomniac like you? Did you? No! Because you leave me and Kankuro to deal with the papers and the medics and everything! You won't even stay in the same room once his name is mentioned! You… are you even listening to me?"

She stomped over to him, placing her hand on the chair and spinning it around for him to face her. "Do you…!"

She froze. Gaara stared down at his lap silently, eyes hooded. His shoulders quivered. He brought a hand up to his face and held the other one out toward her.

"Go away, Temari." He said, sounding eerily like the shy child he'd once been. Temari bit her quivering lip, eyes watering at the rare scene before her.

Gaara was crying.

She'd never seen him so withered and vulnerable looking, so completely and utterly defeated. Not even after Naruto had first fought him. Not even after he had died. It was then she realized… Gaara was just as lost and confused as anybody else. He had no idea how to deal with Yashamaru return after thinking to have killed him for so many years, nor did he know how to face their uncle. He was already feeling guilty and pathetic for not seeing Yashamaru, yet he didn't have the courage to actually go to the hospital to do anything about it. It was like he was a child again.

Slowly and silently, she kneeled and wrapped her arms around him, pressing her face into his chest.

"No, get away from me, Temari. Leave me alone! Stop it! Stop! Just go away. Go away… Don't look at me. Don't touch me. Just…" He said defiantly, pushing against her, but the kunoichi refused to let go.

He gave up his struggle surprisingly quickly, falling limply into her embrace, hands still pressed against her shoulders. He cried quietly into her hair while she rubbed circles on his white-clad back.

"Shh, it's okay, Gaara. It's okay." She whispered comfortingly.

"No. No, Temari." He choked out quietly. "It's not."

**End Chapter 9**


	10. The Sparrow

**Chapter 10**

Asimo got me some more tiles. A lot more. Some are old and broke and some are new and smooth and they're all different shades of blue, but I like them all the same. She's given me a board too, to put them on. Now, instead of just laying around, I can pass the days and nights by rearranging the tiles into different patterns of blue. I glued a number of them to a smaller panel as a gift for Temari. I thought she was going to burst into tears when I gave it to her. I wish I knew why, though. She just said it was lovely.

I'm not sure why I've gotten into the habit of being artistic with the tiles, but I think it has something to do with the book Temari has been reading me, "The Last Leaf." It is a wonderful book. Today's entry is still clear in my mind.

* * *

_After the doctor had gone Sue went into the workroom and cried a Japanese napkin to a pulp. Then she swaggered into Johnsy's room with her drawing board, whistling ragtime._

_Johnsy lay, scarcely making a ripple under the bedclothes, with her face toward the window. Sue stopped whistling, thinking she was asleep._

_She arranged her board and began a pen-and-ink drawing to illustrate a magazine story. Young artists must pave their way to Art by drawing pictures for magazine stories that young authors write to pave their way to Literature._

_As Sue was sketching a pair of elegant horseshow riding trousers and a monocle of the figure of the hero, an Idaho cowboy, she heard a low sound, several times repeated. She went quickly to the bedside._

_Johnsy's eyes were open wide. She was looking out the window and counting - counting backward._

_"Twelve," she said, and little later "eleven"; and then "ten," and "nine"; and then "eight" and "seven", almost together._

_Sue look solicitously out of the window. What was there to count? There was only a bare, dreary yard to be seen, and the blank side of the brick house twenty feet away. An old, old ivy vine, gnarled and decayed at the roots, climbed half way up the brick wall. The cold breath of autumn had stricken its leaves from the vine until its skeleton branches clung, almost bare, to the crumbling bricks._

_"What is it, dear?" asked Sue._

_"Six," said Johnsy, in almost a whisper. "They're falling faster now. Three days ago there were almost a hundred. It made my head ache to count them. But now it's easy. There goes another one. There are only five left now."_

_"Five what, dear? Tell your Sudie."_

_"Leaves. On the ivy vine. When the last one falls I must go, too. I've known that for three days. Didn't the doctor tell you?"_

_"Oh, I never heard of such nonsense," complained Sue, with magnificent scorn. "What have old ivy leaves to do with your getting well? And you used to love that vine so, you naughty girl. Don't be a goosey. Why, the doctor told me this morning that your chances for getting well real soon were - let's see exactly what he said - he said the chances were ten to one! Why, that's almost as good a chance as we have in New York when we ride on the street cars or walk past a new building. Try to take some broth now, and let Sudie go back to her drawing, so she can sell the editor man with it, and buy port wine for her sick child, and pork chops for her greedy self."_

_"You needn't get any more wine," said Johnsy, keeping her eyes fixed out the window. "There goes another. No, I don't want any broth. That leaves just four. I want to see the last one fall before it gets dark. Then I'll go, too."_

_"Johnsy, dear," said Sue, bending over her, "will you promise me to keep your eyes closed, and not look out the window until I am done working? I must hand those drawings in by to-morrow. I need the light, or I would draw the shade down."_

_"Couldn't you draw in the other room?" asked Johnsy, coldly._

_"I'd rather be here by you," said Sue. "Beside, I don't want you to keep looking at those silly ivy leaves."_

_"Tell me as soon as you have finished," said Johnsy, closing her eyes, and lying white and still as fallen statue, "because I want to see the last one fall. I'm tired of waiting. I'm tired of thinking. I want to turn loose my hold on everything, and go sailing down, down, just like one of those poor, tired leaves."_

_"Try to sleep," said Sue. "I must call Behrman up to be my model for the old hermit miner. I'll not be gone a minute. Don't try to move 'til I come back."_

* * *

It's a very good book, I have to admit. But then, I haven't read that many books in my lifetime, either. Or, rather, had many books read to me. Temari was right when she said it was a story I could relate to, "kind of." Though, unlike Johnsy, I'm going to get better and not wallow in misery. Though I can't shake off the feeling that the doctors aren't telling me something…

"Chi, chi, chi, chi, chi!"

I look up, started and confused at the noise reaching my ears.

"Chi, chi, chi, chi, chi!"

So familiar… I look over at the window and my eyes widen.

"Chi, chi, chi, chi, chi!"

It's a bird. A pretty little sparrow, singing. Fascinated, I set my tiles aside and get up, my legs unsteady, and walk over to the windowsill. I hold my hands up against the glass, staring out at the tiny bird. How could something so small make such a brilliant, amazing sound?

"Chi, chi, chi, chi, chi!"

Its song is beautiful, so full of life and joy. I pry my fingers under the window and pull it up with what little strength I posses. But, startled at the movement, the sparrow flies away hurriedly, soon vanishing from my sight. I stick my face out into the open, scorching air, but the bird is long gone.

I frown as the incident makes me think of death. Was life just as fleeting as that sparrow was life just as small and beautiful and precious and able to suddenly vanish at one incorrect movement?

I press my lips together and scratch my arm, the sand chafing my sensitive skin. I close the window and go back to my tiles, casting a glance back at the window.

**End Chapter 10**


	11. Tiles

**Chapter 11**

Hidden in the corner of the hospital room was an eye. Gaara watched his uncle as he lied in the starch white bed, guilt filling his heart. Was this as close as he dared to get? It was so painful seeing Yashamaru alive again, discovering that it had all been a sick plot to push him into becoming the cold, heartless creature he once was. Heart wounds he thought he had become numb to long ago opened up afresh and bled freely, more painful than any physical wound. His hand clamped over his heart

It was difficult to see the similarities between the Yashamaru he'd known as a child and the Yashamaru sitting on the hospital bed, completely ignorant of the fact that he was dying.

The Yashamaru from his memories had brilliant straw colored hair; firm, lightly tanned skin that always seemed to be graced with a smile; and bright violet eyes that had always reminded Gaara of amethysts.

This… other Yashamaru… was different. His hair was limp and flaxen, streaked with pale strands of ash gray. His dangerously pale skin hung off him, taut and wrinkled, each bone agonizingly visible. The pale hospital gown, the smallest size available before reaching the children's sizes, was large and baggy on him, further increasing the starved child appearance he now possessed. His eyes, once such a lovely, glowing color were now a dull, grayed lavender and slightly glazed because of his ruined eyesight. Heavy circles rested beneath them, proof of his fear of the dark and newly developed insomnia. His hands were bony and mangled, thickly veined, boldly knuckled, and missing several fingers.

Using those ravaged hands, Gaara watched, as he played with the many blue tiles splayed across the white bedspread, carefully avoiding looking out into the darkness outside the window. It was impossible to tell what designs Yashamaru made were. The man's eyesight was irreparable and no doubt everything was a blur of color to him. Some of the designs took on shapes Gaara could somewhat name, but only in the most vaguely possible way. He wondered if the blotches mad any sense to the blonde. If that was how he now saw the world.

Why blue tiles, he wondered? Did the color have some meaning to him or were they that color by random chance? Yashamaru yawned suddenly and shook himself, looking up at the blinding light above his head to help stay awake.

Suddenly, the man cringed, coughing painfully and grasping his stomach. He winced violently as his coughs jarred his till broken ribs. He placed a hand over his mouth to catch the cough as tears unwittingly fell from his eyes. Finally, the hacking subsided and Yashmaru pulled his hand away.

A stray stile fell to the floor and shattered.

The blonde man jumped slightly in surprise, his hand brushing against the sheet, leaving a splotch of red that he failed to notice.

Gaara ended the jutsu as his eyes began to burn at the sight of that bloody spot. His sight returned to his office and he uncharacteristically slumped down in his chair, moonlight streaming through the window.

It was then he truly realized just how little time there was left.

**End Chapter 11**


	12. Red

**Chapter 12**

Someone is pacing outside of the door. Two someones, actually, but only one of them is pacing. Every so often the door opens a little, but is shut again. He or she seems to be having a hard time deciding if they're going to come in or not. The two people talk to one another from time, but their voices are hushed and I can't make out what they're saying.

Suddenly, their voices become audible.

"Look, I'm going on in. You come when you're ready."

"But…"

The door opens and a smile spreads across my face as I see a familiar blur of blonde walk into the room.

"Ohayo, Yashamaru." She says, leaning down to embrace me.

"Morning, Temari."

"How's the cough?" She asks, pulling away.

My expression saddens and I look down at the sheets clenched in my hands. "I haven't coughed that much today, but there's been more blood when I do."

Temari kisses my forehead comfortingly before sitting down in the chair beside the bed, shuffling through her bag for the book she's been reading to me.

I exhale slowly. I've been coughing up for the last week. Asimo says that it's just my body getting used to everything, like eating and drinking and probably the medications they have me on too. I have no reason to not believe her, but… somehow, I feel as if I'm not being told something.

The color of my blood is so different from the color of the sky. It's dreadful and beautiful at the same time. Red is death, but at the same time, it's life. Red is hate, but it is also love. Red is romance, but it is betrayal too. Red is pain, but it is the color of healing as well. Red is a color that puzzles me to no end. I find myself despising it.

"Ah, here it is!" Temari declares, holding up, "The Last Leaf."

I smile and lie back into my pillows, violet eyes locked onto my beloved niece. Kankuro has been by a few times, but Temari comes most often. She clears her throat lightly before flipping to the marked page and beginning to read.

* * *

Old Behrman was a painter who lived on the ground floor beneath them. He was past sixty and had a Michael Angelo's Moses beard curling down from the head of a satyr along with the body of an imp. Behrman was a failure in art. Forty years he had wielded the brush without getting near enough to touch the hem of his Mistress's robe. He had been always about to paint a masterpiece, but had never yet begun it. For several years he had painted nothing except now and then a daub in the line of commerce or advertising. He earned a little by serving as a model to those young artists in the colony who could not pay the price of a professional. He drank gin to excess, and still talked of his coming masterpiece. For the rest he was a fierce little old man, who scoffed terribly at softness in any one, and who regarded himself as especial mastiff-in-waiting to protect the two young artists in the studio above.

Sue found Behrman smelling strongly of juniper berries in his dimly lighted den below. In one corner was a blank canvas on an easel that had been waiting there for twenty-five years to receive the first line of the masterpiece. She told him of Johnsy's fancy, and how she feared she would, indeed, light and fragile as a leaf herself, float away, when her slight hold upon the world grew weaker.

Old Behrman, with his red eyes plainly streaming, shouted his contempt and derision for such idiotic imaginings.

"Vass!" he cried. "Is dere people in de world mit der foolishness to die because leafs dey drop off from a confounded vine? I haf not heard of such a thing. No, I will not bose as a model for your fool hermit-dunderhead. Vy do you allow dot silly pusiness to come in der brain of her? Ach, dot poor leetle Miss Yohnsy."

"She is very ill and weak," said Sue, "and the fever has left her mind morbid and full of strange fancies. Very well, Mr. Behrman, if you do not care to pose for me, you needn't. But I think you are a horrid old - old flibbertigibbet."

"You are just like a woman!" yelled Behrman. "Who said I will not bose? Go on. I come mit you. For half an hour I haf peen trying to say dot I am ready to bose. Gott! dis is not any blace in which one so goot as Miss Yohnsy shall lie sick. Some day I vill baint a masterpiece, and ve shall all go away. Gott! Yes."

Johnsy was sleeping when they went upstairs. Sue pulled the shade down to the windowsill, and motioned Behrman into the other room. In there they peered out the window fearfully at the ivy vine. Then they looked at each other for a moment without speaking. A persistent, cold rain was falling, mingled with snow. Behrman, in his old blue shirt, took his seat as the hermit miner on an upturned kettle for a rock.

* * *

Temari pauses in her storytelling and looks up toward the door, which starts to open slowly. She begins to smile. The person hesitates once more beforea sigh reaches my ears and the door opens all of the way. All rational thought leaves my mind as I set my gaze on a pair of jade, black-rimmed eyes.

"Yashamaru…"

**End Chapter 12**


	13. Meeting you again

**Chapter 13**

I bite back a hiccup as tears fill my eyes. My body begins to tremble slightly; tears escape and I clench my hands together, trying to stop my shaking. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to control the hundreds of unnamable emotions flying through my head and the tears that continue to stream down my cheeks.

I feel a finger brush against my cheek, swiping away tears. I open my eyes in surprise and find myself staring into orbs of jade, tufts of ruby red hair framing his impossibly fair skin. A pale thumb continues wiping away the tears.

"Yashamaru."

"You came…" I say shakily, sucking in breath sharply as my body gives into the urge to sob. I struggle against the urge, but quickly lose the internal battle and throw my arms out to embrace him, crying onto his shoulder. Gaara stiffens at my touch and makes no move to hug me back, but I don't let go.

Temari's hand begins rubbing my spine, trying to comfort me and get me to calm down. I'm guessing my niece is here to act as a crutch for Gaara. I'm okay with that.

"You came… you really came…" I whimper, holding onto him as if he'll vanish if I let go. He's stiff as a board. It takes me several minutes to calm down enough to stop sobbing, though I continue to cry. I pull back and let my ruined eyes look over him. "Y-you're all grown up." I choke out. I cover my eyes with my hands, sniffling pathetically. "You're all grown up now… all grown up…Kazekage even! Oh, G-Gaara…"

A hand is hesitantly placed on my shoulder and I bury my face in his chest again, causing him to go even stiffer than before, if that were possible. "I-I'm so s-sorry, Gaara. S-so sorry. I-I let you get h-hurt. I'm s-sorry. I c-could have fought back harder or s-something… anything! B-but I… it's m-my fault. All my f-f-fault… I-I'm sorry I let them t-take me… I'm sorry I-I let them hurt y-you. I-I… I'm sorry I came back!"

"Stop."

A pair of hands grabs my shoulders firmly. I suck in my breath and pull away slightly so I can look up into my beloved nephew's face. He grew into such a handsome young man. I rub the tears from my eyes with a bony fist. "N-n?"

"Stop saying you're sorry."

I hiccup, sniffling several times. "O-okay."

"I'm…" he struggles with the words, "I'm… glad… that you came back."

If I didn't know any better, I'd say that he was admitting that to himself as well as me. I inhale shakily and sniffle, my body shaking violently. Slowly, more cautious this time, I encircle my arms around him and lay my cheek upon his shoulder. Uncertainly, he embraces me back, still unbearably stiff.

I smile softly and close my eyes, causing several more tears to fall. Darkness creeps in on me, and, feeling safe and happy with Gaara beside me, I allow it to overtake my mind.

**End Chapter 13**


	14. Some Secrets Are Best Kept That Way

Warning: implied sexual harassment and implied rape.

* * *

**Chapter 14 – Some Secrets Are Best Kept That Way**

Gaara looked down at the frail man on his shoulder as the blonde's breathing slowed and evened out. Temari gasped quietly, her eyes widening.

"Is he…? H-he's actually asleep…" she murmured, a smile spreading.

Gaara didn't respond, prying the other man's hands from his shoulders and laying him back onto the pillow. There was a small smile on Yashamaru's sunken features, though Gaara was impossible to read. His fingertips lingered on the dying man's sunken brow for a moment before pulling away hastily, his eyes averting to the tiled floor with a hard glare.

Suddenly the door slipped open and Kankuro walked in, a bouquet of plastic flowers in one hand. "Hey, guys, I…"

"Shh!" Temari hushed hastily. Kankuro blinked and looked over at Yashamaru.

He pointed with his free hand. "Is he actually asleep?" Temari nodded. He glanced at Gaara briefly before sighing. "Wow."

The fan user nodded again and gestured to the colorful bouquet. "What are those for?"

The paint-faced nin suddenly looked somewhat embarrassed, shifting the plastic flowers. "Ah, they're for Yashamaru. Since he's so obsessed with colors and everything, I thought he'd like to look at them, plus… they're fakes, so… they won't die."

Temari winced while Gaara made no physical reaction, though the tension in the room increased dramatically. Kankuro rolled his shoulders in an attempt to shrug off some of the apprehension and walked over to Yashamaru's bedside table, setting the fake flowers on its smooth, plastic surface.

Gaara was still staring at the floor, though not in any particular area, his eyes skittering over every detail and crack aimlessly. It was nigh impossible to tell what he was thinking, if indeed he was thinking anything at all. Letting his mind run blankly for several minutes wouldn't be unusual. It was one of his ways of coping with powerful emotions he wasn't used to.

"Kazekage-sama? Temari-sama? Kankuro-sama?"

The three looked up at the nurse who had just walked into the room. The brunette woman looked slightly uncomfortable. "I would like to speak with you about some recent developments with Yashamaru-kun."

Gaara stood while Temari and Kankuro exchanged glances and the three followed Asimo out of the room. She held the door open for them before sliding it shut as quietly as she could, not wanting to wake the blonde man who was sleeping for the first time.

"What is it, Asimo-san?" Temari asked, worry evident in her eyes.

The nurse adjusted her hold on the clipboard. "Yashamaru-kun… we found that there are scars on his body… particularly around his rectal area. We weren't too concerned about it when he first came in, but Doctor Sunako, she's a specialist that usually deals with anorexic patients, she gave him a full body check up the other day and…" She hesitated, inhaling nervously. "W-we think he may have undergone sexual abuse during his imprisonment."

There was a moment of shock before Kankuro turned away, pinching the bridge of his nose with a grimace. Temari's hand covered her mouth and Gaara squeezed his eyes shut, lips pressed into a thin line.

Kankuro leaned one hand against the cream-colored wall, looking back at Asimo. "You're positive?" he asked and sighed heavily when she nodded.

Temari lowered her hand, eyes filled with disbelief and pain. "Why… who would've done something like that?"

"Do you really have to ask?" Kankuro groaned, causing his siblings to look over at him. "Whom else does Yashamaru look like?"

Temari's brow furrowed while comprehension dawned on Gaara's face. "Well, he looks like Mother. They were twins after all, but I don't see…"

"And who was Mother married to?"

She paled, eyes widening. "No…no, he wouldn't have. I know Father had a warped point of view on a lot of things, but… oh, Kami…" She buried her face in her hands.

Asimo wisely kept her lips sealed tightly, though her eyes widened with every word spoken.

Gaara's eyes closed, his hand twitching at his side, itching to kill something. His heart raced in his chest, adrenaline pumping in raw fury as he fought to steady his breathing and restrain himself. His eyes stung distantly.

Without warning, he turned on his heel and strode back toward Yashamaru's hospital room, completely ignoring his siblings and the nurse that scurried after him in surprise. The former Jinchuuriki didn't stop until he was by Yashamaru's bedside again, flinging the door open quickly and looking down at the blonde man with an unreadable expression.

The others stood in the doorway, their expressions showing shock, concern, and worry.

Gaara's throat was tight as he stared at the sleeping form of his long lost uncle, a single thought resonating through his mind.

_Just what have you suffered through… for my sake?_

**End Chapter 14**


	15. Yashamaru's Dream Flashback Part 1

Warning: Implied homosexual sexual harassment.

* * *

**Chapter 15 – Yashamaru's Dream/ Flashback Part 1**

_I walked down the halls to Kazekage-sama's office at a somewhat quick pace, finishing the remains of the apple in my hand. I hoped my brother-in-law would keep our meeting short; I wanted to be back at the house by the time Gaara returned. My poor nephew… he'd asked for ointment… I knew what he wanted it for, and I knew how it would all end too._

_My thoughts traveled back to the conversation Gaara and I had earlier this evening. Pain… he wanted to know what pain felt like. It was something so simple yet so difficult to try to describe to him. How could I get him to understand pain if he had never felt it? __I__t__ was the same as trying to describe dreams. You really can't know until you experience it for yourself. But as I found out, Gaara _is_ experiencing pain. Not physical pain, though. It's pain of the heart. It kills me on the inside. Love is the only thing that can cure that pain, just like I told him, but he's suffering so much… even I know that I can't heal _that_ wound on my own._

_But there's no way he'll be able to make a friend here in Sunagakure. All of the other children are too afraid and Kazekage-sama doesn't let Temari or Kankuro interact with their youngest sibling. Perhaps I could convince the Kazekage to let me take Gaara to visit another village? Maybe someplace like Konoha. Not likely… but maybe I could persuade him. Offer to take up the ninja ranks again for a while or…_

_I paused for several seconds, trying to shake the disgusting thought out of my head, but at the same time wanting to think it over further. Though he ended up hurting her in the end, I know that Kazekage-sama did love my sister at one time and since she was my twin, it was only natural that we looked a lot alike. I swallowed thickly. There had been several… occasions where my broth__er__-__in__-law had… asked me to fill up the space my sister had left behind. Or rather__…__the__ space in his bed._

_I had promised myself early on that I would never sleep with that man. I respected those that were attracted to individuals of the same sex, but there was no way I could imagine myself getting into that sort of relationship. The Kazekage was __a__s__ formal with me as he was with any other person in the village__…w__hen there were other people around. When it was just he and I, however, I admit it wasn't uncommon for his words to soften, his hands to linger, and his black eyes to swirl with dark lust. I hated being alone with him and avoided it whenever I could, but I couldn't always get away._

_My walk quickened of its __own__ accord, bile rising in my throat, as if I were subconsciously trying to get away from some sort of phantom trailing me. He kissed me once. I've done my best to forget that, but it will always haunt me. Gaara was about two years old at the time. It was disgusting; sometimes I can still feel his sick tongue writhing in my mouth. He hasn't tried it again, but it would be the understatement of the year to say I no longer trusted him._

_Still, I wondered what he summoned me for. I was no longer in the ninja business and I had already given him the report on Gaara this month. I reached the doors to his office and knocked._

"_Come in."_

_I took a breath, steeling myself, and opened the door, silently praying that there would be other people in there. Much to my chagrin, there wasn't._

_I bowed stiffly. "You summoned me, Kazekage-sama?"_

_He nodded and steepled his fingers, meeting my eyes. I quickly looked away. "Hai. It has come to my attention that there was an incident involving Gaara and several children today." He said softly._

"_Yes." I tried to keep my suspicion out of my voice. Kazekage never cared about what Gaara did to others before, so why start now?_

_He inhaled slowly. "Yashamaru, will you please answer one question for me? Do you hate the Shukaku?"_

_I gave him a puzzled look. Where was he going with this? "Well, yes, it killed my sister, why would I feel otherwise?"_

_A sinister smirk crawled over the other man's face, sending chills down my spine. Something was wrong here, but what? He stood and I stiffened, but managed to stand my ground._

"_Then you should have no qualms about killing Gaara for me." He said softly, holding out a kunai._

_My eyes widened and I stared at him in disbelief and horror. "What? What are you talking about?"_

_His coal black eyes hardened in disgust. "The boy has become too unpredictable and dangerous. Even after all these years, he still fails to properly control the sand. He's a failed experiment and needs to be eliminated before he becomes a threat."_

"_What? You-you can't do that!" I exclaimed, horror-stricken. Hate began to burn in the bottom of my stomach. "He's just a child! He doesn't understand! How… how could you even think of doing this to your own son!"_

"_My _son_," he spat, "Was killed in the womb and replaced with nothing but a monster."_

"_You're insane! I would never do something like that to Gaara!"_

_He looked slightly confused. "But you just admitted to hating the Shukaku."_

_I gaped at him like a fish. Don't tell me he thought… "Gaara and Shukaku aren't the same person, you madman! If you'd ever spent a day with him you'd know that!"_

_He sighed. "I was afraid you'd be like this, Yashamaru-kun…"_

"_D__on't__ 'kun' me!" I spat furiously._

"_But it seems I have no choice. Apprehend him."_

_My confusion was cleared quickly as several Anbu appeared in the room, weapons drawn. I gaped._

"_W-what the hell is this?"_

_The Kazekage tutted. "Language, Yashamaru-kun. I am truly sorry to have to do this, but since you refused my offer I cannot let you go back and tell Gaara what has taken place here. You are now under arrest. Go!"_

_The Anbu sprang into action and I narrowly avoided several attacks, light cuts grazing my cheek and limbs. I growled as old instincts began to kick in and snatched one kunai out of the air. I knew Kazekage-sama had mental imbalances, but this… this was pure madness! There was no way I was going down without a fight! I had to get to Gaara!_

_I parried the blow of a cat-masked Anbu and countered with a vicious uppercut… missing him completely. I scowled. I had long since lost my touch with battle, whirling around, I thrust my leg out and managed to nail a different Anbu in the neck, sending him back spluttering and gasping for air. I quickly stabbed the kunai between the junction of his arms and shoulder, splitting a major artery._

_I spun back to face the others, only to feel the butt of a kunai jam into the back of my skull, lighting brightly colored spots across my vision and dazing me. I automatically grasped my neck, pulling away when I felt something warm and sticky. I stared numbly at my bloodied palm, eyes following the drips down my arm uncomprehendingly._

_A fist aimed at my face woke me from my stunned state and I caught the hand at the last second, twisting harshly and tossing the Anbu away into a wall. Cracks spider-webbed across the sandy colored surface. The sudden action left me in pain and I gripped my head as more spots danced along the edges of my vision. Blood trickled down the back of my neck and onto my shirt in a continuous, throbbing stream. It felt like my head was split wide open, every heartbeat bringing a fresh wave of pain._

_The remaining Anbu member eyed me more hesitantly. Seeing his comrades taken down so easily by a retired veteran was likely to be surprising for him. I looked up with a grimace as I heard Kazekage-sama growl in irritation. I doubt he expected me to be able to take out the Anbu so easily and quickly. Snarling, he stood forward._

"_Very well, Yashamaru-kun. Have it your way."_

_Faster than my clouded mind could comprehend, he snatched me by the throat and slammed me into the wall, head cracking into the sandstone and I screeched in pain._

_I may have been one of the best __J__ounin__ in the village during my time, but I hadn't fought in years and whether I liked it or not, I was no match for a kage. I slipped into the realm of unconsciousness all too easily._

**End Chapter 15**


	16. Yashamaru's Dream Flashback Part 2

Warning: Homsexual sexual harassment and implied rape.

* * *

**Chapter 16**

_When I finally awoke, I found myself in a pitch-black cell, the rough, grainy feel of sand under me, and something large and sharp clinging to my stomach. I felt incredibly weak and hungry, the wound at the back of my head throbbing faintly and crusted with dried blood and sand._

_I pulled at the device on my stomach and gasped in pain when I felt something like knives gripping into my flesh tighter, and my chakra being drained from my body. I quickly let it go, silently cursing with a panicked expression. Shit. Super shit. What__ever__ this thing was, it wasn't good. My stomach growled painfully._

_A crack of light broke through my black prison and I blinked f__r__antically for several seconds as my eyes adjusted. I quickly wished I had been left blind._

_The Yondaime Kazekage stood in the doorway, his lips curled into an amused smirk. "Finally awake, Yashamaru-kun? You've been out for a week."_

_I felt like my heart had stopped. A week? I'd been in here for a week? "What the hell have you done to me you bastard? What have you done to Gaara?" I snarled._

_He merely chuckled and closed the door behind him, lighting a small lantern beside the entry. "Oh, don't worry about Gaara, though he was so _devastated _when his 'uncle' tried to kill him."_

_I gaped for several seconds and stood up abruptly, my eyes burning with pure, unbridled hatred. "You… you… bakemono! You cold, heartless bakemono! How could you? How _could_ you? I'll kill you!"_

_However, he was over me before I could even move, hands gripping my shoulders possessively. My earlier movement had left me somewhat dizzy, the throbbing in the back of my head increasing slightly. Nevertheless, I struggled, even when he grabbed a handful of my hair harshly, causing me to yelp in pain as the wound re__-__opened and blood flowed anew._

_The man placed his lips by my ear. "You have no idea how beautiful you are, Yashamaru-kun." He whispered. "Such a fighter."_

"_Get off me you sick fuck!" I screamed, desperately trying to thrash myself out of his grasp. His hands brushed over places that he should never touch. If only I had even a smidge of chakra! But the device on my stomach combined with the fact that I had been unconscious for the last week was proof enough that fate was not on my side. He crushed his lips against mine viciously and my fist collided with his cheek. He stumbled away, slightly dazed at the force of the blow, and I collapsed, coughing, spitting and scowling as I fought back the urge to vomit._

_The __Kazekage straightened and wiped the blood away from the corner of his mouth with a twisted grin. "Fighting won't help you, my sweet. Just submit. It will hurt less." He purred, gliding over to me._

_I scrambled away. "Fuck you!"_

_He appeared behind me and before I could react, he pushed me to the ground, hands pinning my shoulders and straddling the back of my waist. I spat out grains of sand, screaming furiously._

"_Bastard! Get the fuck off me! Get off!"_

"_Stop struggling, damn it!" He hit me in the back of the head and my body went limp in a daze, the world spinning around me._

_I groaned. "Fuck…" I weakly tried to lift my arm, my muscles not responding to me properly, but a hand pushed my arm back down. Cold lips fluttered over the back of my neck._

"_Don't worry, Yashamaru-kun, you may not think so now, but I'm sure you'll end up enjoying this__" The Kazekage murmured, his hands sliding under my shirt. Icy cold fear seized me and I yelped __as __something pierced my skin__; a__ needle._

_He pulled away from me and I rolled over, hissing. "What the hell was that, you bastard?"_

"_Just a sedative to keep you from fighting back too much__" He said, peeling off his ceremonial robes. If I was afraid before, it was nothing compared to how I felt now. My limbs felt like lead as the poison began to work and my throat constricted in horror._

"_No… no, don't! No!"_

_I trembled as he kneeled over my body, nausea and terror consuming me. "Don't be like that, Yashamaru-kun," he purred, kissing my jaw-line as he began to remove my clothes, "It's what we _both_ want, I know."_

_But it wasn't what I wanted, and for the first time in my life I felt complete and utter hopelessness._

**End Chapter 16**


	17. Waking Up

**Chapter 1**

I shoot up screaming and shaking, my mind consumed with terror. No, no! Get him away! Don't let him touch me anymore!

"Yashamaru!"

I look up to see a blur of white and blue and am immediately filled with panic. I scream louder, scrambling away and fall off the bed. My head cracks against the tile with a loud smack.

"Yashamaru!"

"No! Don't touch me anymore!" I screech, sobbing. "I don't want it; I don't want it-t… n-no more! No more, Yondaime-s-s-saMA!" I scramble away from the figure, the IV pulling free form my arm and I huddle in a corner of the room, cradling my head in my hands. Warm blood trickles down my arm from the wound now on my wrist. Pain bubbles in my chest and I cough, blood spraying onto the floor and dribbling down my chin. "NO! No, no, no, no, no!"

I hear the sound of rustling cloth and peek up to see white and blue collapse to the floor. Someone in red and lavender kneels in front of me, taking my bony hands in his. Black-rimmed eyes meet mine.

"Yashamaru, calm down. It's okay. He's long dead. Yashamaru, it's okay. It's okay."

I hiccup, my sobs growing stronger. "G-Gaara!" I cry, throwing myself forward and burying my face in his shoulder. "Gaara, Gaara, Gaara, Gaara, Gaara…"

His arms encircle me, squeezing me firmly. "Shh, Yashamaru. It's okay. Yashamaru."

"No more!" I sob, my entire body shaking. "Don't let him do it to me anymore! I'm scared! I'm scared!"

Something is wrong. Something is terribly wrong. My chest hurts. Why? Why does it hurt? Why does my arm hurt? Why can't I _breathe_? I cough violently to the side. Pain, pain… why am I in so much pain?

"I-I can't breathe! It hurts! It hurts; I can't breathe! Make it stop! Make it stop!" I cry. Gaara pulls me away from his shoulder, holding the back of my head to look directly at me.

"Yashamaru. Listen to me." He says firmly. "I've sent a Suna Bushin to get a doctor. Just calm down. You're going to be okay."

But his eyes tell a different story. I can see it. Oh, how he wants me to be alright, wishes that everything will be okay, but I can see it in his eyes and I know.

I'm going to die.

I grab his clothing pleadingly, my eyes filling with tears. "Gaara," I rasp, "G-Gaara. I… don't… I don't… want to… I… I…" The words won't form correctly. I can't get them out. Streams of moisture trickle down my cheeks and my body shudders painfully in my beloved nephew's hold. His mouth is clenched tight as if with anger, though his eyes only hold grief and horror.

I scream, my spine spasming backward in raw physical pain. Looking back, even during my time in that horrible, black, smelly prison cell, when I was completely isolated and cut off from the outside world… to be honest… no matter how many times I wished for it… I never _really_ wanted to die.

I cough, splattering blood everywhere like horrible, red paint. Gaara flinches terribly as the droplets land over his clothing and face. My stomach churns and I weakly pry myself from his grasp, kneeling over the floor and vomiting violently, only… it's not food… it's blood and it's _everywhere_.

Doctors hurry into the room, pushing Gaara away from me and into the wall. Does that woman have pink hair? I vomit again. I'm flipped over onto my back, twitch, and see Gaara being ushered out of the room. My heart tightens and my eyes widen in panic. No! No, don't leave me, Gaara! Come back! Come back!

Someone places a hand on my forehead and a warm sensation enters my body. Pink hair again. My body relaxes of its own accord and I reluctantly fall into darkness.

**End Chapter 17**


	18. Waiting For You

**Chapter 18**

"Gaara, can you stop pacing for two minutes, huh? I'm getting dizzy just watching you."

"Just be quiet, Uzumaki," The redhead snapped.

The blonde Jinchuuriki sighed, pushing himself away from the wall and grabbing his friend's shoulders. "Gaara, calm down. It'll be okay," he insisted, ignoring the other's harsh glare. "Sakura-chan is the best medic there is next to Tsunade-baa-chan! Don't worry. She'll do everything she can. She saved your brother, didn't she?"

Gaara's glare faltered and died with a sigh. He pushed Naruto's hands away and crossed his arms, turning to stare at the door to the hospital room with a forlorn expression. Naruto tilted his head in barely concealed worry.

"Who is that guy, anyway?" he prodded gently.

Gaara didn't answer for several seconds. Finally, he responded, "My uncle."

The blonde's eyes widened. "Your… b-but I thought that…"

"I thought so too."

Naruto flexed his mouth, thinking over his words carefully for one. "When did you find him?"

Gaara inhaled slowly. "Almost a month ago," he whispered. The redhead swallowed and turned back to face his friend. "Naruto, I don't want him to die on me again. Not again."

Naruto's jaw tightened. It was unusual to see Gaara so… for a lack of a better word, exposed. It was rare for his emotions to be so readable. He licked his lips thoughtfully and opened his mouth to respond, but let the words die in his throat as the door opened and a pink-haired young woman walked out. His eyes narrowed as he took notice of the slight tension in her neck.

_Oh no…_ The blonde swallowed thickly, sighing. He patted Gaara's shoulder briefly, causing the redhead to look over at him. "I'm going to go down to the cafeteria and get some tea. Want some?"

Gaara looked down and shook his head. Naruto only pressed his lips together and nodded in understanding before walking away.

The redhead turned his gaze over to the pink-haired medic-nin. "How is he?" he asked quietly.

Sakura bit her lip sadly, her voice unusually soft. "He had a heart attack, Gaara-sama. He…" she paused, exhaling slowly. "I'm sorry. Yashamaru-sama… his body… it just can't handle everything. He was imprisoned too long and it's only a matter of time before his mind shatters completely. Sadly, because of the complications with his stomach combined with the heart attack… if only you'd contacted me a few days ago, maybe I could have…" She drifted off.

A pit of dread filled Gaara's heart. No… no, not again…

Sakura reached out hesitantly and placed a hand on the young Kazekage's shoulder, her eyes filled with sympathy. "He only has a few hours left," she whispered. "Say goodbye while you still can. He's waiting for you." Biting her lip, she released him and walked away, leaving the young Kage to his own devices.

Gaara's hand clenched into a fist, glaring at the ground. Too late. He had asked for help a few days too late. If only he'd been less stubborn. If only he had… if only… Yashamaru was dying again, and once again… it was his fault. His shoulders trembled and he covered his eyes with a palm, breathing deeply with a depressed frown. He massaged his temples for several minutes before looking over at the lonely door that led to Yashamaru's room.

"_Say goodbye while you still can. He's waiting for you."_

The redhead straightened his shoulders gravely, sliding the door open and walking into the stark white room. His stomach felt like it had dropped past his knees. A number of wires, needles, and suction cups connected Yashamaru's frail form to several beeping and humming machines. An oxygen mask covered his mouth and nose, fogging slightly with each shallow breath. The heart monitor beeped softly, the little green line bouncing sharply with every heartbeat.

The redhead's mouth felt dry as he glided over to the blonde, lips pressed together tightly. Yashamaru had looked pathetic enough before, but now… now… Gaara could no longer try to ignore the fact that Yashamaru's time among the living was truly ending. If only he'd taken action sooner…

He reached down, pale, slender fingers caressing the older man's sunken cheek softly. His thumb traced over the supple wrinkles marring the once smooth, cinnamon face.

Yashamaru made a soft noise, gray-lavender eyes fluttering open as he leaned toward the redhead's touch. He blinked several times, lips parted slightly in content surprise.

"Gaara…"

**End Chapter 18**


	19. The Last Leaf

**Chapter 19**

It was comforting for Gaara to be the first thing I see when I wake up. It fills me with a strange sort of drowsy joy. I manage to smile and reach up, placing my mangled hand over his.

"Hello." I sigh, eyes glittering dully. He doesn't respond, kneeling by the bed and placing his chin on the sheets. He pulls his hand away from my cheek, but wraps his fingers around mine, clinging.

I gaze at him affectionately. My beloved nephew… "Gaara?"

He blinks at me.

"How long was I asleep?"

He inhales slowly, eyes unreadable. "Three days."

I sigh, my eyes closing. "I see." I raise my other hand slowly and pry the oxygen mask away. Gaara starts to stand in alarm.

"Yashamaru, wait, don't…"

I shush him gently, pulling him down toward me. I softly press my lips against the scar on his forehead, stunning him. "It's not your fault," I tell him.

Guilt flashes across his eyes. "You don't understand. It is, I…"

"Stop," I whisper firmly. "Don't blame yourself. Don't ever. None of it has ever been your fault. Not my imprisonment, not the Shukaku, not even your mother's death…"

He looks down at me abruptly, a strange emotion in his eyes. "Mother?"

My tattered hand caresses his cheek, sensing the surprise, doubt, pain, and longing in the simple word. "Your mother loved you, Gaara. I remember… how she used to look when she was pregnant with you. She was… always glowing, even after your father…"

Gaara looks away, knowing what I'm referring to. "So, she never really hated…?"

I shake my head weakly. "She hated your father and the village, but… but never you. She wasn't a foolish woman. You hadn't even been born, how could it have been your fault?"

"Then why did she name me 'self-loving carnage?' Why that name?"

"I don't know, Gaara. I… truly don't know," I say, shaking my head. "She had her own share of side affects to deal with by carrying Shukaku. Protection of the sand and insanity among them. The last moments of birth were agony for her. Even if she had survived, she wouldn't have been able to care for you. Her mind was too warped by then."

I hear him exhale slowly; the sigh of someone with wisdom past their years and yet with the ignorance of a child.

I reach out toward the table shakily. Gaara follows my movements, his eyes questioning. My tired, lavender eyes meet his cream-jade orbs. "There's one more chapter," I whisper wearily.

He stares at me for several seconds before nodding, picking up "The Last Leaf," and sitting down in the chair beside my bed. He seems uncomfortable and painfully out of place. I place my hand on his shoulder in a weak attempt at comforting him. He stiffens briefly, turning sharply to meet my eyes, and soon relaxes, his eyes softening. He turns back to the book, and begins to read. I close my eyes as his voice reaches me, a small, content smile spreading across my thin face.

"When Sue awoke from an hour's sleep the next morning she found Johnsy with dull, wide-open eyes staring at the drawn green shade.

"'Pull it up; I want to see,' she ordered, in a whisper.

"Wearily Sue obeyed.

"But, lo! After the beating rain and fierce gusts of wind that had endured through the livelong night, there yet stood out against the brick wall one ivy leaf. It was the last one on the vine. Still dark green near its stem, with its serrated edges tinted with the yellow of dissolution and decay, it hung bravely from the branch some twenty feet above the ground.

"'It is the last one,' said Johnsy. 'I thought it would surely fall during the night. I heard the wind. It will fall to-day, and I shall die at the same time.'

"'Dear, dear!' said Sue, leaning her worn face down to the pillow, 'Think of me, if you won't think of yourself. What would I do?'

"But Johnsy did not answer. The loneliest thing in the whole world is a soul when it is making ready to go on its mysterious, far journey. The fancy seemed to possess her more strongly as one by one the ties that bound her to friendship and to earth were loosed.

"The day wore away, and even through the twilight they could see the lone ivy leaf clinging to its stem against the wall. And then, with the coming of the night the north wind was again loosed, while the rain still beat against the windows and pattered down from the low Dutch eaves.

"When it was light enough Johnsy, the merciless, commanded that the shade be raised.

"The ivy leaf was still there.

"Johnsy lay for a long time looking at it. And then she called to Sue, who was stirring her chicken broth over the gas stove.

"'I've been a bad girl, Sudie,' said Johnsy. 'Something has made that last leaf stay there to show me how wicked I was. It is a sin to want to die. You may bring a me a little broth now, and some milk with a little port in it, and… no; bring me a hand mirror first, and then pack some pillows about me, and I will sit up and watch you cook.'

"And hour later she said:

"'Sudie, some day I hope to paint the Bay of Naples.'

"The doctor came in the afternoon, and Sue had an excuse to go into the hallway as he left.

"'Even chances,' said the doctor, taking Sue's thin, shaking hand in his. 'With good nursing you'll win." And now I must see another case I have downstairs. Behrman, his name is. Some kind of an artist, I believe. Pneumonia, too. He is an old, weak man, and the attack is acute. There is no hope for him; but he goes to the hospital today to be made more comfortable.'

"The next day the doctor said to Sue: 'She's out of danger. You won. Nutrition and care now, that's all.'

"And that afternoon Sue came to the bed where Johnsy lay, contentedly knitting a very blue and very useless woolen shoulder scarf, and put one arm around her, pillows and all.

"I have something to tell you, white mouse," she said. "Mr. Behrman died of pneumonia today in the hospital. He was ill only two days. The janitor found him the morning of the first day in his room downstairs helpless with pain. His shoes and clothing were wet through and icy cold. They couldn't imagine where he had been on such a dreadful night. And then they found a lantern, still lighted, and a ladder that had been dragged from its place, and some scattered brushes, and a palette with green and yellow colors mixed on it, and - look out the window, dear, at the last ivy leaf on the wall. Didn't you wonder why it never fluttered or moved when the wind blew? Ah, darling, it's Behrman's masterpiece. He painted it there the night that the last leaf fell."

Gaara closed the book as the last page came to an end.

"Yashamaru?" he murmured, looking up. The older man made no response, his eyes closed and lips curled upward at the corners. Dread formed in the pit of the redhead's stomach. "No…" He quickly moved out of the chair and over to the blonde, hands gripping the frail man's shoulders. "Yashamaru." He shook the man slightly. "Yashamaru, wake up. Please, Yashamaru."

But the man was silent and unmoving, his body limp. An unusual stinging burned in the back of Gaara's eyes and his arms lost their strength. His nose pressed into the stark sheets covering Yashamaru's still warm chest, though it was unmoving. The young Kage felt trickles of saltwater trail over his cheeks before being absorbed into the sheets quietly.

"Please, wake up…"

**End Chapter 19**


	20. Epilogue

**Epilogue **

The funeral was a quiet affair. Frail wisps of pale cloud drifted overhead in the sunny sky, sparkling blue to match the ceremonial kimono wrapped around Yashamaru's body.

Temari sobbed into Kankuro's shoulder as bright orange flames began to consume the altar. People just couldn't be buried in the desert. The ever-changing winds and shifting sands would uncover the bodies. Cremation was the tradition in these harsh lands.

Sakura, clothed in black like everyone else, twisted her fingers behind her back, her eyes sad, though not teary. She hadn't known the blonde man well enough. Still, she rarely lost a patient, and the few times she did was never easy on her tender heart.

Gaara stood between his siblings and his best friend, cream-jade eyes clouded over and distant, his expression the blankest it had been in years. He watched with a detached face as tendrils of smoke lifted into the air and dissolved, the smell of burnt flesh and essential oils filling the area.

Naruto's crystalline blue eyes flickered over to the redhead beside him, his gaze falling upon the young Kage's trembling fingers. It was a subtle movement; Gaara himself probably didn't even realize that he was shaking. Turning his eyes back to the dancing flames, the blonde reached over and grasped the pale boy's hand in his own. Gaara flinched but didn't pull away.

Kakashi and Baki stood in the background out of respect. Neither had known Yashamaru, but they knew the pain one felt when losing a precious person. Veterans the two males may have been, but death was one of the few things that never became easy to bear, no matter how many years passed by.

Yashamaru's small body burned quickly until the flames sputtered and died out, leaving behind a meager pile of soft, gray dust. For a long time no one moved, and very slowly the wind began to pick up.

Gaara's eyes widened as small bouts of dust rose into the air. _No… I won't let you leave me again._

They all watched silently as the redhead's sand engulfed Yashamaru's ashes. Naruto smiled. The sand pulled away from the altar, leaving nothing behind but bare stone, and filtered back into the gourd. The former Jinchuuriki looked over at his blonde counterpart.

"He'll stay with me now. Always," he said quietly.

Naruto glowed with pride. "You know, Gaara? Of all the places in the world, I think that's exactly where he'd want to be."

**End**


End file.
